


No Requiem

by tymedfire



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Everybody loves Merlin, F/M, Gen, Hurt Merlin, I'm a slut for familial relationships yall, Nobody Dies, lots of brotps, the arthur/gwen is background, the title is from a song bc I'm trash and most of my story titles are from songs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-09 03:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12267528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tymedfire/pseuds/tymedfire
Summary: Arthur doesn’t plan what happens; he just reacts. He hadn’t been expecting the old sorcerer, Dragoon, to show up, to use magic. He hadn’t been expecting the feeling of rage that shocked through him when the old man locked eyes with him. He hadn’t expected his body to move before his mind processed what was happening. He hadn’t expected his sword to suddenly be in the old sorcerers gut.





	No Requiem

Arthur doesn’t plan what happens; he just reacts. He hadn’t been expecting the old sorcerer, Dragoon, to show up, to use magic. He hadn’t been expecting the feeling of rage that shocked through him when the old man locked eyes with him. He hadn’t expected his body to move before his mind processed what was happening. He hadn’t expected his sword to suddenly be in the old sorcerers gut.

He hadn’t expected the look of complete shock on the old man’s face as his gaze swept from Arthur’s face to his sword and back again.

The sound Dragoon makes is what shocks him into moving, roughly yanking the sword out of his body with a resounding squelch. Arthur stares at the man as he takes an involuntary, staggering step back, hand going to the hole in his stomach. He makes another pitiful sound before dropping to the ground. He stays sitting up, to the surprise of Arthur and his Knights. There are tears in his eyes as he whispers, “Arthur.”

Oh. He knows that voice.

Horror fills Arthur as Dragoons face melts away, replaced by the pale, heartbroken face of his manservant. His friend. He just mortally wounded his best friend. 

A strangled cry leaves Arthur of its own volition and he surges to his friends side. He doesn’t even hear the cries of the Knights as they process what had just happened and the fact that none of them had even noticed Merlin leave. He’s too busy staring at the blood spilling from his best friend.

He’s too shocked to even process anything. Not all his Knights except Gwaine stepping back, while Gwaine rushes to Merlin’s other side. Not Gwen, foregoing queenly decorum and dropping to the dirty ground to pull Merlin’s head into her lap. 

Arthur can’t think. He feels like he’s outside of his own body. His hands go to Merlin’s stomach, pressing down on the wound, but he doesn’t remember telling them to. He thinks he’s speaking, crying, but everything feels muted and muffled. He’s vaguely aware of people running behind him, but nothing else in the world matters to him outside the circle he, Gwaine, and Gwen have made. Nothing else matters except Merlin.

Merlin, who is bleeding beneath his hands. Merlin, who is bleeding by his hands. Merlin, who is staring at him with heartbreak in his eyes. Merlin, his first friend, his best friend, his confidante, his little brother, is on the ground, bleeding, because of him, and suddenly Arthur forgets to act like a king, like a prince. He forgets to be stoic and impassive and strong. He forgets to close himself off, to keep his emotions in check.

He forgets and he cries. Because Merlin is pushing his hands away and whispering, “stop” and “don’t” and “please”. And he deserves it. He deserves to be rejected by his friend, because he’s just killed him in cold blood.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Merlin, please. I need to stop the bleeding, please, you can’t die. Please. Please!” But Merlin, pale and weak Merlin, doesn’t relent. He pushes Arthur's hands away. He pushes Arthur away.

Arthur isn’t quite sure how many times his heart has broken in the past few minutes, but, no matter how hard he begs, he doesn’t stop trying to hold it together.

Beside him, Gwen is sobbing, her hand running through Merlin’s hair and over his face. She’s begging, too, begging her best friend to stay with her, to not leave because he’s not allowed and who would gossip with her every day and make snide comments in her ear during council meetings while filling their cups and who would keep her sane if he left? As she begs she leans her head down, her arms around Merlin’s body, and presses her lips to his forehead.

Gwaine is silent, but his eyes and his hands beg for him. He’s crying, and Arthur doesn’t think he’s ever seen Gwaine cry. His tear-filled eyes stare at Merlin, begging, pleading for him to hold on. His hands press down over Arthurs, telling Merlin that he will hold on if Gwaine has any say in it. He’s gasping like he’s trying to hold back sobs, but he doesn’t speak, and his eyes never leave Merlin’s face.

Arthur wonders how he never noticed how many people love Merlin, how many people call him their “best friend”. He knows that Gwaine came to Camelot for Merlin. He’d never liked Arthur at the beginning, and even though Arthur knows they’re friends now, he also knows that his loyalty belongs to Merlin, and that if Merlin left or died, so would Gwaine.

He knows that Gwen was Merlin’s first friend in Camelot, and that, once she became queen, Merlin was the only one that didn’t treat her differently. There were times, at the beginning of their marriage, when she would disappear for a few hours at a time. He knew she got overwhelmed, but he never had any idea how to help her. Fortunately, Merlin seemed to. He’d always been secretly grateful to Merlin for being there for his wife when he couldn’t, and if his punishments for disappearing when Gwen did were much less severe than normal, nobody commented on it. He hadn’t always been grateful, of course. He’d been jealous, at first, and a little suspicious, but those feelings disappeared when he found them both one day in Gwen’s old house, drunker than Gwaine after a victory. He’d walked in to find Merlin standing, holding his shirt, which was on fire, with a pout on his face, and Gwen laughing harder and more carefree than he’d seen in a long time. Neither of them had noticed him. He never complained about their excursions again.

His rash, anger driven actions had just taken their best friend from them.

Suddenly, he’s pushed to the side, and his hands are ripped away from Merlin’s body. He starts to yell at the person who dared to pull him away, until he sees that it’s Gaius. If possible, he feels even worse. Gaius looks stricken and his face is filled with terror. He pushes Gwaine’s hands away when he tries to reach back for Merlin. Gaius’s eyes dart from the wound, to Merlin’s face, to Gwaine, to Arthur, before landing on Excalibur. He practically snarls, “Get that out of here,” and Arthur doesn’t think he’s ever heard Gaius sound so vicious.

It’s only when Percival moves to pick Excalibur up that Arthur notices the other Knights. Percival, big, strong, quiet Percival, has tears streaming down his face. He picks Arthur’s sword up, walks to a side hallway, and flings the weapon so hard Arthur is surprised it doesn’t stick in the stone wall. He dimly thinks that he should be angry about his people treating his sword like it’s something evil, but he can’t bring himself to care. Percival comes back and stands next to Leon, who stares at Merlin with wide eyes. He’s breathing hard and Arthur assumes he’s the one who ran to get Gaius. Elyan stands slightly apart from them. Every few seconds he starts to step forward, his hand reaching out, but he always decides against it and pulls back, then repeats. He looks like he can’t quite comprehend what’s happening. Arthur can relate. Most notably, Arthur sees George standing in the shadows. Arthur’s fairly sure he hadn’t been there when the actual events transpired, so he must have come in with Gaius and Leon. The usually composed and professional servant looks like he’s about to faint. His hands shake by his side and his mouth hangs slightly open. His eyes flit between Merlin and Arthur, and he looks terrified. Terrified of me, Arthur realizes. Good, he thinks. Arthur’s pretty terrified of himself right now.

Unable to bear the look of fear on the servant’s face, Arthur forces himself to look back at Merlin. He looks even paler than before and his eyes flutter as if he was trying not to fall asleep. Panic renews itself in Arthur. Merlin can’t go to sleep. He can’t die. He can’t. Gaius has his hands pressed to Merlin’s wound. His eyes are closed and he seems to whispering. Magic, Arthur realizes. He’s using magic. A hysterical laugh bubbles it’s way up Arthur’s throat, but he bites it down. Gwaine, whose hands had been pushed aside just like Arthur’s, now holds Merlin’s hand in his own, pulled to his chest. He’s speaking now, but Arthur can’t hear what he’s saying.

Suddenly, Merlin jerks and cries out in pain. Gaius also snatches his hands back as if he’d been burned, and Arthur notices that the wound looks no different.

“Merlin, I need your help. I know you’re tired, I know it hurts, but I can’t heal you enough on my own. I need your help, please.” Gaius grabs Merlin’s hands and presses them beneath his own on the wound.

“Gaius,” Merlin whispers.

“I know, my boy. Please try.” Gaius’s voice breaks on the last word. Slowly, Merlin nods. Gaius starts chanting words, louder this time, and after a second Merlin joins in, though his voice is considerably quieter.

Arthur thinks he’s more shaken than he should be when Merlin’s eyes glow gold.

Their chanting continues for a few seconds before Merlin’s back arches off the ground and he screams. Gaius persists for a few more seconds, ignoring the panicked cries from Gwen and Gwaine. Finally, he pulls his hands away, and Merlin falls limp to the ground, eyes closed. The wound looks only slightly healed, and Arthur’s own panic grows.

“He’s not healed.”

Gaius’s head whips around to face him. He doesn’t look angry anymore, only sad, and that scares Arthur more than anything. “No. Excalibur is not a mortal blade. It was forged in a dragon’s breath. I cannot heal him.”

“So… he’s going to die?” Gwen asks.

Gaius looks at her for a second before turning back to Arthur. “Maybe not. There are two beings in this world capable of healing a wound like this.” Before he can continue, Gwaine interrupts with a desperate,

“Who are they? Where are they?”

“One of them is Merlin.” Arthur can’t help but shrink away from Gaius’s piercing eyes, guilt eating him alive. “The other is the dragon who made the sword.”

“The Great Dragon was the last dragon, and he’s dead. There is no hope.” Leon sinks to the ground as he speaks, face betraying his despair. Gwen lets out a harsh breath.

“There is.” All eyes whip to Gaius. “The Great Dragon is the one who made Excalibur, and he is not dead.”

“How do you know?” Arthur asks, barely daring to hope that he could right his wrong.

“Because Merlin is the one who made Excalibur for you, Arthur. And he is the one who sent Kilgarrah away that day, because he is the last Dragonlord, and the dragon cannot disobey him. As his Dragonlord, Kilgarrah is most likely already aware of Merlin’s condition, and on his way here. I’ve healed him enough for a short journey to the clearing where Merlin usually meets with him. You must take him there. Now.”

Arthur sits, unmoving, for a few seconds, trying to process this outpouring of information. It’s Gaius’s sharp “Now!” that shakes him out of it.

“Ready the horses,” he orders. Elyan and Leon both take off running at top speed almost before he’s finished speaking. Arthur tries to stand, but suddenly pain blooms from his cheek and he’s on the ground. Gwaine punches him once, twice, three times, before Percival pulls him back. Gwaine is glaring at him so hard, he’s surprised he hasn’t combusted.

“If he dies,” he begins shakily. He jabs a finger at Arthur, his other arm being held tightly by Percival. “If he dies, Arthur, I’m going to finish that. I don’t care if it gets me executed. If he dies… If he dies, you are going to wish you were with him.”

“Gwaine!” Gwen cries in surprise. Arthur thinks that Gwaine doesn’t know how true that statement is.

“If he dies, I am gone.” Gwaine yanks his arm away from Percival and walks over to Merlin. With infinite tenderness, he slips his arms under Merlin’s legs and back and lifts him up. Percival tries to take Merlin from him, but Gwaine refuses. They both leave, George following close behind, leaving only Arthur, Gwen, and Gaius.

“I’m sorry.”

Gaius and Gwen both look at him with sad eyes.

“You didn’t know it was him. That doesn’t excuse what has happened, but… you didn’t know. You would never hurt Merlin. I know that. He knows that. Just… fix it. Fix it and learn.” As Gaius walks out, Arthur notices how old he looks. His shoulders sag and the wrinkles on his face look more prominent than usual.

“Let’s go.” Gwen takes his hand and pulls him toward the door. He’s suddenly so grateful to have a wife who is so forgiving and kind and compassionate. He knows she hasn’t forgiven him yet, but he also knows that she won’t leave him for what he’s done, like Gwaine.

Dimly, he thinks he should probably try to make Gwen stay, but he knows the attempt would be futile, and probably painful for him, so he just follows his wife and prays that he won’t lose the only other person he loves as much as he loves her. 

 

  
The clearing is empty when they reach it.

Gwaine and Percival immediately set to getting Merlin off the horse. Oddly enough, it was George, who had insisted on coming, that demanded Merlin ride with him. He said that Merlin’s horse, whom they were riding, was used to large loads, and that, as a servant, he possessed the most delicate touch and Merlin would be more comfortable. To everyone’s surprise, after a few seconds of staring George down, Gwaine had agreed, though he kept his horse right next to them the entire journey.

Arthur looked around the clearing while the others tended to Merlin, as if the dragon was hiding and they just couldn’t see him yet.

There was no dragon.

“Where is he?” Gwen asks fearfully, once again sitting with Merlin’s head in her lap. “Where’s the dragon?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur whispers. “I don’t know.” Suddenly, Arthur can’t keep quiet anymore. He feels everything acutely, all at once, and he can’t keep quiet. He screams at the sky. “Kilgarrah! Kilgarrah!”

“Silence, Pendragon!” A voice roars. The wind picks up around them and the sound of flapping wings is deafening. Arthur takes a few stumbling steps backwards out of the dragons way before righting himself. The dragon regards him coolly before turning his gaze to Merlin. The dragon’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly before he turns back to Arthur. “What have you done to my lord?”

Before Arthur can answer the sound of flapping wings is heard again. These, however, sound small, and are accompanied by a wail filled with grief. A small white dragon barrels toward the group, landing just in front of Arthur before bounding over to Merlin. The entire group watches, stunned and uneasy, as the white dragon nudges Merlin’s foot with its nose. When Merlin doesn’t respond, it lets out a soft mewl and moves to his side. Gwen leans away fearfully, but her hold on Merlin tightens. The dragon nudges Merlin’s side once before opening its mouth and breathing on him. The air before its mouth shimmers and Merlin’s breath hitches, but nothing else happens. After a second, the little dragon looks at the Great Dragon and lets out another anguished wail before wrapping its tail around Merlin’s legs and resting its head on Merlin’s hip, just below the sword wound.

Kilgarrah’s voice pulls Arthurs gaze away from Merlin and the dragon. “What did you do to Merlin?”

Arthur tries to respond but he finds he can’t speak. He takes a moment to compose himself, clears his throat, and says, “I made a mistake.”

“Clearly. I can sense my own magic within him. More than is usual.”

“I…” Arthur doesn’t want to, but he knows he has to say it. “I stabbed him. With my sword. With Excalibur. I didn’t… but that doesn’t matter. I acted in anger and I made a mistake and Merlin does not deserve to pay for my mistakes. Can you save him?”

Kilgarrah regards him for a few moments. “Yes, you certainly did make a mistake. Remember this, King Arthur. Remember this feeling, and use it to guide you. My young friend does much for you, and he will forgive you, for that is the type of person he is, and one cannot hate that which makes it whole, as you two do. But you must remember this, and accept what he is and what he has done for you. You must protect him as he protects you, because Camelot, and this realm, will fall if either of you do. You must do this.”

“I… I will. I swear it. I will do anything, just save him.”

“Aithusa,” the Great Dragon calls, and the little dragon, apparently called Aithusa, lifts its head and moves to stand under Kilgarrah. The dragon then starts speaking in a language that’s not quite what Gaius and Merlin had been speaking when they had healed Merlin. He speaks for a few seconds before saying two words Arthur definitely recognizes. “Merlin Emrys,” he says before breathing magic onto Merlin.

Everybody watches Merlin with bated breath. At first, nothing happens and Arthur feels his heart sink and tears sting his eyes. Merlin’s wound closes, but he doesn’t move and he doesn’t wake up. Suddenly, everybody jumps as the little dragon, Aithusa, lets out a delighted screech and charges at Merlin. Gwen squeaks and her hands come up to shield her face as the dragon jumps on Merlin with its front paws. Merlin shoots up, gasping, his arms automatically moving to circle the weight on his chest. Aithusa happily pushes him back to the ground as the entire clearing lets out a breath of relief.

“Aithusa!” Merlin gasps. Aithusa screeches happily and nuzzles Merlin. “Aithusa, sweetheart, get off, please.” Aithusa screeches again and bounds away from Merlin and around Kilgarrah’s legs. Merlin sits up shakily and looks around at the group.

“Hi. I definitely don’t know these dragons.” The ridiculousness of this statement sends the entire group into hysterics. Gwen wraps her arms around Merlin from behind, burying her face in his neck and crying in relief. Gwaine lets out a loud, boisterous laugh, grabs Merlin’s face, and plants a big kiss on his cheek. Merlin looks completely confused when George comes up and shakes his hand enthusiastically. 

“Kilgarrah?” Merlin asks. To Arthur, he still looks far too pale and tired. At Merlin’s voice Aithusa can’t contain itself anymore, and the little dragon runs back to Merlin and curls itself around him, making Gwen pull back. Merlin glances at the dragon in his lap with a small smile and absentmindedly pats its head. “Kilgarrah?” He repeats.

“You are healed, young warlock, though not completely. You will be sore for a while and you have exhausted your magic quite a bit. I wouldn’t try anything for at least a week. In the meantime, I believe you and your King have much to discuss.” At his last sentence, Merlin pales considerably and his eyes dart to Arthur. Slowly, cautiously, Merlin turns to face Arthur with a guarded look on his face that cuts Arthur straight through.

“Merlin…” Arthur starts, not sure what to say. Everybody moves slightly away to give them some semblance of privacy, but they all remain clearly in earshot. He lowers his voice. “Merlin, I’m… I don’t even know what to say that would be enough. I’m so sorry. I… I acted in anger, like I swore to myself that I would never do, and you paid the price and you… God, you almost died. I almost killed you!”

“You thought I killed your father. You didn’t know.” Merlin says quietly, not meeting Arthur’s eyes.

“No.” Arthur says so forcefully Merlin flinches. Arthur walks over to Merlin and sits down on his knees in front of him and dips his head to get into Merlin’s line of sight. “I knew that Dragoon, that you, didn’t kill my father. You tried to save him. I knew that and I still did what I did. There is no excuse. I… I’m so, so sorry.” His voice breaks.

He’s unaware that he’s crying until Merlin tentatively reaches up and wipes his cheek. Finally, Merlin meets his eyes. “I have magic.”

“I know.” Arthur reaches a slow hand toward his friend, ready to pull it back at the slightest hint of discomfort from him. “I know, and I don’t really understand, but… I’ll listen, if you’ll tell me. Everything I’ve ever known pretty much just got turned upside down. I mean… God, Merlin. How could magic possibly be evil if you have it?”

Merlin lets out a little gasp of breath and surges forward, grabbing Arthur in a hug. Aithusa darts out from in between them. Arthur’s breath of relief turns into a sob and he wraps his arms around his best friend and squeezes him as if his life depends on it. He’s distantly aware of some of the others crying and laughing, but right now nothing matters to Arthur except the hug that Arthur knows, as surely as he knows Merlin, is forgiveness.


End file.
